Are Introverts Likeable? Of Course!
Discussions of likeability disadvantage introverts. Here’s why.
Theoretically, the idea of likeability shouldn’t pose problems for introverts. After all, if someone has friends – as most introverts do – then their friends almost by definition like them. And if someone has people who like them, then obviously they are likeable. Duh!
As logical as that analysis is, it overlooks a less logical but very common usage of the word “likeable.” When we debate whether a politician, job candidate, neighbor or supermarket clerk is likeable, we are not referring to whether that person has friends. We’re also not discussing whether we ourselves like the person. Rather, we are assessing the extent to which he or she matches an ideal personality that we presume most people prefer others to have. And that ideal personality sits on the “ex” side of the extrovert/introvert continuum.
The Likeable Ideal
For Americans, a likeable person is immediately warm and welcoming to strangers, upbeat, socially smooth and confident, and has a ready sense of humor. The likeable person is mildly charismatic, not as bubbly as a cheerleader and less edgy than a showoff. He or she smiles a lot but doesn’t crack corny or tiresome jokes. If he or she has weird hobbies or prickly opinions, those don’t come out until you get to know the person well. Think bland, pleasant, benign, inoffensive. If he or she were a meal, you’d never send Mr. or Ms. Likeable back to the kitchen – but you might not go out of your way for seconds, either.
Which brings us to what we might call the Joe Doe test for likeability, often spoken about in politics: Would you want to have a beer with this guy? Can you imagine sitting side by side with him, shooting the breeze, chatting about everything and nothing? (I used the male pronoun there purposely, but let’s leave that issue aside.)
For an introvert, there’s lots wrong with both the likeable ideal and the Joe Doe test.
First, the likeable ideal prioritizes personality traits that come out in first impressions. Deeper qualities that emerge over time, such as loyalty, honesty and generosity, which often make us want to keep friendships and relationships going, aren’t included in the likeability paradigm. Nor is whether someone with a pleasant exterior might be too boring for anything more than passing the time of day. The “likeable” label thus disguises the fact that we might very well not like supposedly likeable people, either right away or in the long run.
Because introverts are liable to hold ourselves back from expressing ourselves or revealing ourselves in first encounters, we’re less likely to be dubbed “likeable” by strangers or acquaintances, even though we may be ultimately well liked and very well valued by our friends. In practice, considerations of likeability reinforce our culture’s preference for extroverts.
Second, the likeable ideal distorts the reasons why we actually enjoy spending time with people. I enjoy meeting interesting people – people who differ from me in ways that motivate me to listen to their experiences and perspectives. For instance, I once sat next to a Congressman on a plane, and I asked a lot of questions about what he liked in his job. Afterwards I had no idea whether he was Democrat or Republican, but what he told me in his confidential asides had me musing for a long time afterwards.
On another flight, a uniformed soldier sat next to me, and when a stranger up front sent him a complimentary drink to “thank him for his service,” I asked, “Does this happen often?” The soldier said yes, and explained how this practice sometimes set the scene for conflicts with commanding officers over drinking in uniform. Our exchange let me glimpse a world with pressures and rewards nonexistent in mine. Time well spent, in my mind.
Conventionally likeable people might also have intriguing stories to tell, of course. My point is that the idea that certain people are likeable and others not makes it seem odd to be drawn to people for other reasons than their surface personality. And yet for introverts who prefer in-depth conversation to chitchat, those other reasons feel perfectly normal.
As for the Joe Doe test – would you want to have a beer with them? – it presumes that talking chummily side by side with a stranger at a bar is the benchmark for assessing someone’s human essence, if not just their compatibility with you. If you enjoyably spend a lot of time in bars, maybe there’s something to that. But if a bar is a foreign or downright unpleasant environment for you – as it’s too noisy, crowded and superficial for many introverts – the beer experiment fails.
I can’t help noting that when (introvert) Jerry Seinfeld planned buddy-buddy interviews with other famous people, he set the series in cars, not bars. (After the first couple of minutes, his “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee” episode with then-President Barack Obama is very, very funny and has several moments that will make fellow introverts light up.)
How to Respond
Seriously now, if you find yourself amidst a discussion of whether or not a certain person is likeable, let me suggest a couple of ways to redirect the conversation. If someone begins to criticize, say, someone under consideration for a job as not that likeable, retort, “I like her,” and list some qualities that put her in a positive light. Or interject, “I admire (or respect) her, and that’s more important than liking in this situation.” Give some good reasons why matching America’s likeability ideal isn’t relevant for being a super-duper manager, real estate assessor or helicopter pilot, as the case might be.
I wish we could wipe the word “likeable” out of the English language, since it seems such a repository of prejudicial ideas. When we have the opportunity, let’s at least call out bogus personality standards that leave typical introverts out of the running.
This is such an outstanding article and very helpful as I think about building relationships with others as an introvert. Thank you.